


In My Arms Lies Eternity

by ElynnaAmell



Category: Dragon Age (Comics), Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age II, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-11
Updated: 2015-03-11
Packaged: 2018-03-17 09:37:04
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,407
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3524357
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ElynnaAmell/pseuds/ElynnaAmell
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In the two days before he leaves for Skyhold, Gareth Hawke goes about his now-normal life aboard the Siren's Call II and reflects on his family, including his lover Isabela and twin 4 year old children, Malcolm and Shahra.</p><p>Set in the Circle and the Sword Universe.</p><p>Mostly done, needs editing. Possibly will be the basis for an expanded look at Gareth's Hawke's story, much like Elynna's.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Hmmm… Was that six pounds of salt pork left or four? Gareth scratched at his beard absentmindedly and sighed. They needed more when they hit port, that was clear, but the captain would have his guts for garters if he didn’t do the inventory exactly. And Maker, that woman certainly knew how to give him hell. He sighed and went back over the salt pork, turning around briefly to check on his other duty.

He knew they had been too quiet; his twin children were nowhere to be found. Gareth swore loudly. They were on a ship, so they’d never be truly lost, and the crew would keep them from getting into any real danger. He was more concerned about Isabela finding out, really. He shook his head; for the most part she was easygoing and good-natured: but interfere with either her ship or her children and there would be hell to pay.

Starting up the ladder to the main deck he heard some giggling behind him and shushing. Gareth grinned to himself, relieved they hadn’t gone far this time. Isabela had nearly castrated him the one time they had somehow made their way up to the crows nest, and he’d still never gotten over that anxiety-ridden fear they’d hurt themselves. They’d been thoroughly disciplined after that affair, though the two were like squirrels and would climb anything and everything. It was really only a matter of time before it was repeated.

Carefully going back down into the hold, Gareth began loudly narrating to himself, “Hmmm… Maker’s beard I think I’ve forgotten something down here. Something important. Ah! I know what it is…”

He heard his son giggling and his daughter scolding her brother to be quiet. While it appeared that Shahr had taken the lead on this escapade, neither twin was generally dominant. Shahr and Mal were equally devious, and were likely exactly what his mother had in mind when she used to tell him that she hoped he had children who were just like him.

“Ah yes, there’s my quill! Hmmm… Going to be lunchtime soon. I’d best head up and lock up the hold tight—don’t need the rats getting down here.” Gareth started back up the ladder and heard small feet frantically running up behind him—they’d been hiding amongst the ale casks, not too far from where they were actually supposed to be.

“Wait, no, Papa!” “We’re here!” “Don’t forget us!” Their high-pitched pleas were a tangle of words from the two of them, with both tugging at his pant leg.

Gareth turned to look down at the two of them, both of them with the most heart-rending expression on each of their faces. An utter act—one that Gareth himself had been quite good at at their age—but one they had clearly mastered. He bit back the harsh reprimand he’d been about to deliver and knelt down to their level after climbing off the ladder.

“Now, what have I said about hiding from Papa? I knew you two were here this time… But what if I hadn’t? If the hold actually was locked and no one knew you were here? That’s dangerous and both of you know better. We’re going to be docking at Jader tomorrow… Because neither of you have listened, neither of you will be going ashore. Now, let’s go join your mother for lunch.”

The protests started almost immediately; Gareth ignored them and sent them up the ladder. He was still amazed at how facile they were on the ladders and riggings at their age, but it would be more dangerous for him to carry them himself, losing an arm for balance. Champion of Kirkwall he might be, but he was no sailor born; not like his wife and children at any rate. Isabela had named him Second-Mate on the Siren’s Call, but the crew still referred to him as “the captain’s pet landlubber” due to his general clumsiness. At least the bouts of seasickness had long since stopped.

Climbing the ladder and reaching the Captain’s cabin, the tiny space the four of them called home, Gareth joined his lover and their children at the table; lunch looked like it would be salt pork with hardtack and cheese. It was fairly clear that they hadn’t hit port for some time. 

Sitting down, Gareth noted the conversation revolved around his children’s determined petitioning for their right to go ashore one the grounds that their father was a “meany-pants.” Shahr punctuated that statement by sticking her tongue out at Gareth. He raised an eyebrow at her and stared a long moment. His father had used the same trick on him on many an occasion and it had always worked when he was being a pain in the ass. His daughter looked away guiltily and resumed eating in silence. Mal shot him an uncertain smile: Gareth ruffled his son’s hair fondly and he kissed him on the side of the head. He wasn’t particularly upset with either of them, but they needed to stop testing their boundaries. They were only four years old and determined to be little terrors. Looking up, Isabela studied him with that knowing little smile on her face.

Maker, how different everything had become. Not long after the events at The Gallows, the remnants of their little band had fled on board Isabela’s new ship, going into hiding—sans Aveline and Sebastian of course. And… Anders. Guilt flooded Gareth; he still didn’t know if he had done the right thing, executing his friend; he supposed he’d never be able to feel right about it. Eventually they had docked at Ostwick, to allow Varric, Merrill, and Fenris to make their way along the Wounded Coast back to Kirkwall. And for Isabela to see a healer. She hadn’t been feeling right for some time—well before the showdown at the Gallows—though Gareth hadn’t noticed until they were at sea. Of course, with the severity of his own seasickness, he assumed she simply had trouble as well… Though he’d later learn that she had privately thought he’d contracted something awful and given to her: she’d never been sea sick a day in her life.

That she went directly to a circle mage, rather than the cheapest apothecary she could find, should have tipped him off at the time. It wasn’t until he found her staring at a tincture of witherstalk and Felandaris that he’d pieced it all together. He’d frozen at the scene, though numbly accepted that if she’d kept him out of this for this long, she’d had her reasons. He wasn’t about to force her to bear his child if she wanted no part in it. But it had been anything but cut and dry like that.

She was hesitant and wanted the child, but had feared that he’d leave her, or that she’d lose the respect of her crew, or her life at sea if she kept it. Relief had flooded him; of course he’d never leave her and yes, he wanted this child. He shyly asked to name it after his father if it was a boy; Isabela had nearly broke down at that small, but significant gesture of his acceptance of it all. Fighting back tears she agreed—but only if she might name it after her grandmother, Shahra, if it was a girl. He promised to look after the child once it came—Isabela would never need to fear losing her control of her crew or ship; Gareth joked she’d likely be able to continue with her ambition to become Queen of the Eastern Seas, Admiral of the Felicisima Armada. In the beginning they had had a lot of hope, naivete, really, about becoming parents to a completely unplanned child.

The rest of Isabela’s pregnancy had been hard and it had taken a toll on her ability to efficiently manage her crew, which she resented. Though admittedly his surprisingly subtle efforts at hiding her fatigue and frustration had gone a long way. When the children were born, however, the nightmare had begun. Neither of them had been expecting twins—though clearly his family history should have proven otherwise—nor were they prepared to deal with trying to balance the needs of twins. Or just how loud two screeching infants could be. They had to pay a mage to create a soundproof barrier around their cabin, else the crew would have mutinied or given Hawke straight to the Templars within the first few weeks. Isabela took to sleeping on a hammock on deck, leaving Gareth to deal with them. He himself had literally been ready to jump ship a time or two during those days, but knew he could never truly do that. Especially not during those rare moments when the two babes had been quiet and happy. He tried to bring in Isabela during those times, but invariably her skittishness with them would set them crying and she’d find something else to do on board.

He’d been disheartened, but he knew it tore her up inside. She was convinced she made them cry because she was a poor mother. She was scared and had little idea of what to do: he’d had two parents, two younger siblings, and had helped out with livestock on the family farm. He’d try to get her to come around eventually though. The twins would grow up quickly and she’d soon be teaching them to tie knots or climb the rigging—though looking back he now wished the latter hadn’t happened—and she’d be fine. At least, it seemed like he’d get her to come around. A letter from his cousin Elynna very nearly threatened to shatter it all, however.

Varric had received the letter and forwarded it to Hawke; the spymaster nearly always knew where the Siren’s Call II would be docked. He was perhaps the only person in the world who could ascertain that information that quickly. Though Gareth had been told the Left Hand of the Divine’s network was far more formidable, Varric had created enough false information to keep anyone off Hawke’s true trail. Even his own agents were somewhat handicapped in terms of what they knew, to prevent their being used.

Elynna’s request was itself coded; Varric had already cracked it and gave Gareth the actual message behind the rather mundane request to “Mistress Carver” concerning linens for the Grey Wardens of Vigil’s Keep. The Commander of the Grey played a very, very dangerous game. Grey Wardens were not permitted to interfere in politics: their role in fighting darkspawn needed to take precedent over any and all conflicts that would undoubtedly never prove to be as enduring a threat as The Blights. Yet Elynna was very openly the Chancellor of Ferelden, a Senior Enchanter of Kinloch Hold and was an Archmage who voted in the College of Enchanters with the Aequitarian Fraternity. Secretly she also served the Divine personally. Meaning her correspondence with her cousin who some still deemed responsible for the destruction of the Kirkwall Chantry and the subsequent Mage Rebellion could see her put in an awkward position for any number of reasons.

While the overlaid code had been from the Warden-Commander, the message was from the Chancellor, on behalf of the King. Apparently information had come to light that King Maric might still be alive. On behalf of the people of Ferelden, King Alistair wished to recover his father and requested the aid of Captain Isabela and Gareth as well. They would need to go to Antiva and would be risking their lives to attempt to infiltrate the archive of the Antivan Crows. Gareth recalled choking back a laugh when his cousin’s informal opinions on all of that shown through: he could practically see her rolling her eyes at the idiocy of it all. But she did as her King requested. Gareth suspected it was more due to her attachment to her adoptive fathers, Greagoir and Irving, and her desire to see her lover have something similar that prevented her from outright telling the King that this was in fact one of the worst plans ever conceived.

That night he had told Isabela about it all. He expected her to laugh and shrug it off: their children hadn’t even reach their first nameday, there was simply no way they could do this. Perhaps they could get Varric to find Zevran Aranai—he used to travel with Elynna and Alistair anyways—to go along. Andraste’s beard, Varric himself was likely itching for an invitation to this dance. But she didn’t shrug it off. Her eyes lit up and she began making plans: obviously they needed to swing by Kirkwall and see if any of the old gang wanted to come along… They could make for Denerim from there. It’d be grand fun, just like the old days. The dreamy look in her eyes died when Mal started crying, though. Gareth would have given anything to have not seen that.

He’d had enough adventure for a lifetime, he told himself. If he could trade all the excitement of what happened in Kirkwall for his mother and brother, he would. So rather than leave the twins with Elynna and Bethany, he decided he’d stay behind, rather than risk his children being orphaned if things went horribly wrong. If him keeping a low profile somewhere on land, caring for his children alone, would make the woman he loved happy, he’d do just that. And so Isabela’s plans came to fruition after all.

With a heavy heart at the Denerim Docks he waved farewell to the disappearing vessel with his free hand, the other cradling his infant daughter to his chest. Beside him had stood his cousin Elynna, holding Malcolm and cooing at him. Alistair’s decision had left her tied down to Denerim too, though it was in her capacity as Chancellor of the realm. She had been a great help in those days with the twins; even Daylen, tranquil and odd as he was, was a natural with the two of them. Bethany came after a few months as well, discretely accompanying Prince Sebastian Vael, though he returned to Starkhaven long before she left… Between the four Amell cousins things had almost become easy, in terms of caring for the twins.

When they had returned, there had been a visible change in both Isabela and Alistair, though Gareth wasn’t given much of a chance to speak with Alistair on what happened in the North. Isabela wanted to take to the sea immediately, so off they had gone, no clear port of call in mind. She’d insisted on being surrounded by the twins at all times at first, and even made some vague attempt at monogamy for him, which was surprising. Neither of them had ever had any pretentions towards being tied down like that, disdaining marriage when they both knew they each would indulge in varied company every so often, an arrangement that suited them both. Eventually things returned to normal, but Isabela remained fiercely devoted to their children, commenting every so often that she refused to be like her own mother. The troubles of the twins infancy had been firmly left in the past.

“Well, meany-pants or no, your father is right. You two have been told about hiding like that. Everyone on board needs to pull their own weight: what you’re doing is the opposite of that. In fact, you’re both old enough for some chores, here and there. No child of mine will be some sort of useless landlubber aboard my ship, you can bet your breeches on that.” Isabela addressing Shahr jolted Gareth out of his reverie.  
The look Shahr shot him at that announcement was pure venom; he reminded himself it was just a phase. Right now her mother could do no wrong—and her father could do nothing but wrong. It hurt, to hear his little girl say how she didn’t like him at all, but it was simply something children did. Next week, she might go back to being perpetually glued to him. Mal was a bit more even-keeled at the moment, but that too was uncertain.

The rest of lunch went pleasantly enough, and later in the day Gareth was even able to convince them that their chores, which did indeed include swabbing the decks, could be fun. Settling into bed that night, he studied Isabela’s sleeping form as well as his children on their pallet on the floor. They certainly had their moments, but he’d trade none of this. As he drifted into sleep he could feel Isabela shift to cuddle him. There was nowhere else he’d rather be right now: this was paradise itself.


	2. Chapter 2

Even though it felt like everything was moving, it was always good to be back on land, in his opinion. Gareth enjoyed the freedom of being able to walk more than thirty paces at once, and the novelty of seeing new things as he rounded each street corner. Reaching the butcher he began to take care of his errands, including getting another month’s supply of salt pork. Midday he felt that he’d made good enough progress on Isabela’s list of things for him to do that he took care of one of his own items.

Gareth made his way to The Rose and the Lion, requesting any messages that may have been left for a Master Snow. To his surprise, the man at the counter handed him a rather thick envelope from “Master Ortan” rather than the usual short note. Varric had always wanted to avoid leaving more lengthy correspondence via this method as it was highly suspicious. Clearly, this was something of an emergency. Nonetheless Gareth nonchalantly stuffed the envelope in his tunic and casually tipped the man manning the counter. He’d look at it back on the ship, though now his curiosity had him going through his errands carelessly and quickly, impatient to look at the letter.

Back on the Siren’s Call II Gareth interrupted his children playing tag in their quarters. Sitting on the bed, he reached for them as they ran by and pulled them onto his lap. Shahr wriggled away and glared at him, going to play with her toy horse. Mal stayed, snuggling closer. Usually the boy was an utter scamp, but it seemed like his sister’s somewhat hurtful antics had brought out a more docile side in him. Sighing, Gareth reflected he was definitely ok with that. He leaned back against the wall and put an arm around his son, using his free hand to open the letter from Varric.

The contents were utterly unexpected, and true to Varric’s profession, were completely enthralling—even if he had addressed the letter to “Chuckles.” Mal, clearly didn’t find it terribly interesting, however; Gareth’s son’s patience had run out by the end of the first page, squirming to leave his father’s lap to go play with Shahr. Gareth put him down and went back to the letter. The issues with the Sky, the tales he’d heard of demonic rifts, the alleged end to the war he’d started… It was all here. And then he went cold. There was one thing behind all of this. An evil he’d thought dead for the last seven years. One that both Varric and he had put an end to, in the Vimmark Mountains. Corypheus.

The reason for Varric’s letter soon became clear. The Inquisitor—apparently the man responsible for the White Templar movement after the Lord Seeker had split the Templar Order from the Chantry, and Elynna’s third-cousin to boot—could likely use all the information he could in this fight. The Inquisitor was capable of miraculous things and looked to be able to win this—but needed all the information Hawke could remember. He was wanted in Skyhold, and could possibly exonerate himself by aiding the Inquisition.

Gareth spent the rest of the night mulling it all over, barely speaking at dinner. He later realized he’d subconsciously made up his mind: he’d packed his packs with barely a thought. He had to go. He had created this mess, caused thousands of deaths. He had to try to fix it.


	3. Chapter 3

Rising the next morning he found Isabela sitting at the prow. He slowly went over what Varric had sent him and braced himself to explain the next part.

“I’m needed, love… This, this is all my mess. And besides, Varric thinks that I might be able to save my name with this—I’d no longer be a wanted man by the Templars. Think of all the places we could go to—including back to Kirkwall.

“Gareth, this is ridiculous. Your place is here with your family. You don’t have any obligation to help this Inquisitor… Isn’t he one of Elynna’s Trevelyan cousins? The man is probably a total ass. If he’s really the Herald of Andraste, he can deal with Corpyheus. Besides, Varric was there with you at Vimmark; what in the world can you tell this Inquisitor that Varric can’t? You don’t need to go.”

“I have to. My actions at the Vimmark Prison started this… Corypheus is responsible for all the deaths at the Conclave and apparently for the complete destruction of Haven. I set him loose: those deaths are on my hands. Isabela, if I ever hope to be able to look my cousin in the eyes again, I have to do this. Do you recall Elynna’s childhood friends that we met, Petra and Kinnon, or her Aunt, the Enchanter Leorah and her Uncle, Knight-Captain Hadley? They all died at the Conclave. Because I let Corypheus loose. Because I was too naïve to see what Anders was really doing. I need to set this right, set this all right. Varric is giving me the chance to do it.”

Isabela turned to hide her tears, though Gareth turned her back around and cupped her chin, kissing her. 

“I hope I won’t be gone long, love, but I can’t lie. I’m not certain what we’re dealing with. If… If I don’t return, promise me you won’t forget me, and that you won’t let our children forget me.” His voice broke at that one. They were so little, it was unlikely they’d remember his face after even a few years had passed. Maker, even after fifteen years with his own father, he’d have still had some difficulty remembering Malcolm’s features if he hadn’t been the spitting image of his father.

Coughing, he added, “This is a good opportunity for you and the children anyways… Why not start teaching them navigation and such, in addition to the chores? Set sail for some random destination—perhaps Rivain? Take a few new lovers, try new things and such…”

Isabela stared at him a moment and slapped him. 

“Well. Maybe I deserved that,” he winced and rubbed at his jaw.

“You great big idiot. Sex is the absolute farthest thing from my mind right now. Yes, shocking, isn’t it?” Her voice dripped with sarcasm and a contained pain, “The man I love—the only man I’ve ever really loved—might be going off to die. I can’t even think about…” 

She finally broke down, tears rolling down her cheeks, “Gareth, you make a promise to me. That you’ll return. Because if you die, I will hunt you down and kill you.”

He chuckled and was surprised to find that he was crying as well, “Very well, my love. I promise.”

He looked down at his children, who had come to find them and had been watching the whole exchange with confused looks on their faces. He knelt down and gathered both of them in his arms, kissing each in turn. To her credit, Shahr didn’t pull away. Looking at each of them, he addressed them carefully, knowing fully that this might be the last he ever spoke to them.

“I’m going to be going away for awhile. While I’m gone, Mama is in charge. Well, Mama’s always in charge, but you both know what I mean. You need to be on your best behavior for her—don’t give her a hard time.”

“But… Where are you going, Papa?” Unexpectedly, Shahr was the one voicing this fear, though Mal’s eyes had gone round as well.

“I… Made a mistake, a few years ago. Before you were born. And because of that mistake, bad things have happened. It’s my job to try to fix my mistake before things get worse.”

Gareth sighed. As much as he wanted to spare his children, they weren’t stupid. “Where Papa has to go might be very dangerous. I might not be able to come back. Now, I promised Mama that I’d come back to you all—and I want that more than anything. It’s important to keep your promises, just like it’s important to try to fix your mistakes. But,” he paused and kissed each child again, “I want you both to know that I love each of you. What I’m going to do, it’s… It doesn’t only fix my mistake, it will also hopefully let you two grow up safe, in a better world.”

He saw the confusion in their eyes and decided that perhaps they weren’t in fact ready for that. He could hope that they’d remember it for a time when their minds could grasp it better. For now he merely added, “I’m going to tell you a special secret. While I’m gone—for as long as I’m gone— you two can talk to me whenever you want. All you need to do is just picture me in your mind and think, or say, ‘Papa I need you’ and I’ll hear anything you tell me. It’ll be like I’m with you all the time—so you don’t need to miss me as much.” He smiled sadly at them and hoped they couldn’t see the pain in his eyes.

He made to stand and realized he couldn’t. Both twins still clung to him; he held them close and stood with them in his arms, memorizing their faces, voices, smells, everything about them he could. Finally he allowed Isabela to take them and stared a long moment at the family he was leaving behind. Grabbing his packs, he turned and left before his heart broke entirely. He made it halfway to Skyhold before he felt he had now truly made the gravest mistake of his life in leaving.


End file.
